Moments Together
by theatrewraith
Summary: A collection of one-shots with Becca, Steve, and various familiar faces.
1. Running Into A Surprise

**Author's Note:**

 **This is a collection of fluffy one-shots taking place chronologically between _Flying High, Falling Hard_ and _A Little Kindness_. As a forewarning, the sixth and final one-shot will contain Bucky/Steve/OC. **

* * *

Becca couldn't have been more relieved to see the finish line. She put on an extra burst of speed, surpassing three of the other runners – which was fairly satisfying even if she was technically still at the back of the pack – and crossing the white line that had been sprayed across the path in Brooklyn Bridge Park. Victory. She jogged over to the side and stopped, panting. Who said you needed to be skinny to run? Or jog? Okay, mostly she had been doing a slow trot, but she had been pacing herself. She lifted one leg, balancing against a bench to stretch.

When the New York branch of Narcotics Anonymous had gotten together for its meeting about the bi-annual fundraising People Like Me marathon, Becca had been asked to help with the advertising side. She used to like jogging before the accident. Malena, her sponsor, had reminded her that exercising was a helpful aid to recovery. With Steve's assistance, Becca thought she'd be able to raise a good amount of money. So she signed up as well, and joined a group that was training together. It had been fun and she'd liked having a goal to work towards.

Of course, at the moment she'd like to crumple to the ground and never move again. Bad idea. She was supposed to stay on her feet for at least ten minutes. Shit. She'd forgotten about her watch.

Becca quickly stopped her watch and looked at the time. Holy. Shit. She had exceeded her goal by almost four minutes! She bounced once on her heels in excitement and nearly threw up. Okay, she could be excited later. Time to get some water or something to settle her stomach.

A tent had been set up with tables full of cups with all sorts of drinks and soup broths. Steve was helping hand them out, stepping aside occasionally for a quick picture and doing his best to ignore the paparazzi that the NYPD was keeping at bay. The second he saw her, he picked up two cups and a bag and came over. He pressed both cups into her hands, one water, the other red Gatorade.

"Remember, drink it slowly," Steve reminded her, not that Becca needed reminding. Although the clean-up crew was doing their best, there was still a lot of puke. Marathons could be exhilarating, but they also made your body do a lot of gross things.

Becca sipped the water first. Mmmm drinking felt great, although her stomach didn't seem so sure.

Steve took a blanket out of the bag and wrapped it around her shoulders to keep her body temperature from dropping too quickly. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm proud of you."

Hearing that was as satisfying as finishing. Becca smiled. "Thanks. Oh, look!" She showed him her watch. "I did better than my goal."

"Well, then we'll have to celebrate."

"By lying on the couch, watching movies, and not moving for a week? Or ever again?"

"Whatever you want," Steve chuckled.

"Good answer."

"Although we might get hungry if we never move again."

Becca pointed out, "That's what delivery is for." She was going to eat so much crap food in the next few days. Pizza, Chinese take-out, the surprisingly delicious Indian around the corner from Steve's apartment, and at least two ice cream shakes from Black Ice. And then she would probably explode, but she would die happy.

"And how are they going to get into the apartment?" Steve asked.

"Hmm. That is a pickle." Becca changed up water for the Gatorade while she pondered. "Got it. You can train a bald eagle to pick up the food."

Steve gave her an amused look. "You're right. That's much more practical than getting up to answer the door."

"Isn't it though? And you could totally train it to follow you around so whenever you say something patriotic people will hear a bald eagle screech as it passes overhead with an American flag."

"In that case, guess I'm getting a bald eagle." Steve put on his 'pretend-to-think-hard' face. "I think I'll name him Washington Lincoln Roosevelt."

"Tch." Becca shook her head, but quickly stopped as the motion made her dizzy. Jeez, everything was making her feel sick. "Now you're just being tacky."

Steve set his hands on his hips. "Uh huh. So the line is…"

"Where I say it is, obviously. Ooo, how about the American flag in one claw and the other claw has a boom box playing 'America, Fuck Yeah?'" Becca was picturing him doing something super mundane like going into an all-American diner when all of a sudden – Eagle! Music! Explosions! – while he kept a straight face and didn't react. It was kind of ridiculously amazing.

However, Steve clearly didn't appreciate her vision. "And _I'm_ being tacky?"

"Shush. I ran a marathon; I can say what I want."

"I think you do that anyways."

Becca elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "Rude."

"Sorry…" Steve took the empty water cup from her hand and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. "But you know I'm not wrong."

"Um, that's irrelevant." Becca considered giving him her Gatorade cup as well, since she wasn't too sure she could stomach the rest at the moment, but Steve had a thing about not finishing food and drink.

"Hey, I've got a patriotic duty to tell the truth. Otherwise it builds up inside me." Steve pressed a palm against his breast, wincing like he was in physical pain. "So much truth. I can barely contain it." He took her hand. "You've gotta help me."

"Shut up," Becca laughed, nearly snorting up Gatorade. That's it. Whatever. If Steve had a problem with tossing her partially full cup, he could finish it himself.

"Miss America."

"I do not have the energy for this."

Steve looped an arm around her waist. "Please." He was attempting the puppy dog look, but the grin negated it.

"Go. Away," Becca said, rolling her eyes and giving him a playful shove that, as usual, had all the effect of attempting to push over a building, except with the added benefit of reminding her that her arms also really hurt.

"It's too late," whispered Steve with what she assumed was meant to be horror.

"Oh my god."

"I think I'm –"

Becca kissed him.

* * *

He didn't know what it was, but whenever Becca began feigning annoyance – although it wasn't always entirely feigned – Steve felt like he had to keep going. He supposed the inevitable press of her lips in an effort to shut him up had something to do with it. The kiss only lasted a moment, as Steve wasn't too comfortable with kissing in public, but it was no less gratifying.

"I hate you," Becca murmured, but Steve knew what she was really saying.

"Drink the rest of your Gatorade," he instructed, pulling the blanket on her shoulders to cover more of her neck.

Becca wrinkled her nose and didn't lift the cup. "Have you seen anyone else?"

"Some of your friends came by the table after they finished, but everyone else, not since this morning."

Steve had been at the starting line with Becca's parents, Ally, and a couple of her other friends who had come to cheer her on. They had parted ways afterwards, scattering along the marathon route. He had seen Becca once, but then got caught up in helping carry runners who passed out and had eventually ended up handing out drinks. Wherever he was needed, he went, figuring Becca wouldn't mind as long as he met up with her at the finish line.

"Okay. I'll let them know I finished. You have my phone?" Becca held her hand out, and Steve retrieved her cell phone from the gym bag he'd brought. While texting, she added, "We should take a picture for your Twitter."

Getting a Twitter account had not been his idea. His press agent had suggested it, strongly. In fact, Devika had insisted, but said that she could have other people running the account for him. Steve hadn't liked the idea of other people putting up content in his name, so he'd agreed. He had to admit, Twitter had its uses, like spreading the word about this marathon, but he'd probably forget about it unless Becca reminded him or Devika e-mailed him. Last time he'd gone two weeks without making a tweet, she had sent an e-mail threatening to censor all of his "overly opinionated" and "controversial" tweets going forward. He had then tweeted the link to an article about abortion, to which she responded with a e-mail containing an irritated emoticon and the words "Who let you out of the freezer again? I need to send them my bar tab." He was surprised she'd stuck around this long.

Steve took out his phone and tried holding the camera at various angles. He wasn't very good with selfies. He never knew how much of his body to include or how much background. Becca usually ended up nudging his phone into place.

"There are a couple of guys who ran without shirts on," Becca noted. "So you could take your shirt off for the picture and it'd probably be fine."

"What?" Steve glanced at her, confused.

Becca grinned teasingly. "You know, as a thank you present to Cap's Commandos for raising all that money to sponsor my run."

It continued to puzzle Steve as to why his fans had come up with a name for themselves. He also wished they had picked something different. He knew his fans meant well, but every time he heard the name, he was reminded of the Howling Commandos, all of whom had passed on.

"I've got a better idea," Steve countered, and he pulled her in close.

"You're right. I'm just as good as you shirtless." Becca made a face as he adjusted his phone. "Although I am definitely not looking my best at the moment."

"You look fine."

"Wow, that's some high praise right there."

"Ready?"

"Hold on." Becca moved his arm so that his phone was slightly further away. "Okay, ready."

They both smiled, and Steve took the picture. He spent a minute debating over what to write. It was difficult when he knew the amount of writing was limited in tweets, especially when he wanted to say something about a certain issue in the news. The rest of the time, he plain didn't know what to put down.

Eventually he decided on, " _Thanks for your donations to the People Like Me marathon. Narcotics Anonymous deserves the continued support for their great work._ "

"All set?" Becca asked when he tucked his phone back into his pocket. She was no longer holding her Gatorade cup. Steve hoped she'd finished the rest.

"Yeah."

"Awesome. I'm going to go for a cool down –" Becca's eyes went wide as something over his shoulder attracted her attention.

Steve clenched his fists instinctively and pivoted, coming face to face with… Tony Stark?

Stark held up his hands. "Easy, Spangles. I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your girlfriend by beating your ass."

"Sorry." Steve lowered the fist he'd half raised. He didn't do well with people coming up behind him while he was distracted. "What are you doing here?"

Stark replied, "Made an investment. Wanted to see how she did."

Steve glanced to Becca, whose thoughtful frown smoothed into a look of shock. "You're my million dollar sponsor."

There had been a lot of sponsors who donated through the website Becca had set up. They rarely discussed who the funds came from. On occasion, Becca pointed out celebrities with delight and more than once he found her bleary-eyed, attempting to respond with thank-yous to everyone, at which point he would pull out his laptop to help.

The one exception who had garnered a lot of discussion was the anonymous donation of one million dollars. There weren't a whole lot of people with that kind of cash lying around, but they'd ruled out Stark for two reasons. One, his company had made a public donation. And two, he seemed like the type who always had to be in the spotlight. Becca's prevalent theory had been that the donor was a celebrity who didn't want to expose their once drug habit. He had thought that maybe the person wanted to keep the attention on Narcotics Anonymous. Not everyone had the need to be recognized for doing a good deed.

So Steve was surprised when Stark said, "Guilty."

"Wow… I didn't…" Becca blinked rapidly. She had a poor opinion of Stark, and Steve could see she hadn't expected such a gesture. She shook her head like she needed to wake up from a daze. "Thanks. That was super generous."

"It's not a big deal."

"It is actually. I'd, like, give you a hug or something but I'm all sweaty so –" Becca held out a hand, and when Stark took it, she clasped his hand in both of hers. "Thank you. The money will go such a long way in helping a lot of people who need the support. It means a lot to me. Really."

Steve got his second surprise when Stark looked unusually uncomfortable at the gratitude. "Sure. Yeah. Anytime." He quickly pulled his hand away.

"Oh!" Becca waved. "That's Megan and Lexi. I promised we'd do a cool down jog together." She nodded to Stark. "Thanks again." Tugging the blanket off her shoulders, she lifted onto her toes to press a kiss against Steve's cheek. "Keep an eye out for my parents, okay? My dad tends to wander. I'll be back soon."

"All right." Steve accepted the blanket and her cell phone, and watched Becca trot off to meet with two of her friends. They headed in the opposite direction from the encroaching reporters, whose cameras were trained in his direction as they frantically snapped picture after picture between the police.

"That _was_ real generous of you," Steve reiterated. Stark could be abrasive, but there was a good man buried beneath all that ego.

"Like I said, not a big deal." Stark cleared this throat, his casual manner appearing slightly forced. "Addiction's a bitch. But Becca seems to be doing fine."

Steve's eyebrows rose. S.H.I.E.L.D. had done a thorough job of covering up Becca's addiction as far as he could tell. He'd had two conversations with Becca about whether to go public despite Fury's wishes, first after she had tried to turn herself in for possession of illegal medication, and again when she had told him about her plans to do this marathon. The first time, they had decided to let it go. Likely Becca would've been slapped with some community service and mandated treatment, both of which were covered by Narcotics Anonymous. The second time there had been more debate, but the decision was ultimately Becca's to make and she had decided not to say anything, mostly because she was afraid of getting him in trouble both with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the public. Also, she reminded him that the whole point of the organization was being anonymous. He respected her decision and kept his mouth shut.

However, Stark seemed certain, so Steve had to ask. "How'd you know?"

Stark shrugged. "Takes one to know one. Not that I was shooting up or popping pills or whatever it is she did. Well, there was this one time, or two. Anyway, I like having a good scotch myself, and eventually I had one too many and – Why am I telling you this? Doesn't matter. Bad things happened, and I worked through them. I'm not gonna whine about it."

Steve felt like he was seeing Stark in a new light. He hadn't known Stark had been a drunk. How could he? But Stark had overcome his addiction and seeing firsthand how much Becca had struggled, Steve had a lot of respect for that. And he didn't think that Stark would've looked for much help either.

"So how's it being a super not-so-secret agent?" Stark asked, and Steve allowed him to change the subject.

"Fine. How's… whatever you're doing?"

"Can't complain. Been working on my suits. I'm up to Mark-36. I had a little extra me time since I didn't have to do the interview for Sexiest Man Alive this year."

"Right," Steve mumbled, having had done that very interview a month back. He didn't think he deserved the title. When Devika had first contacted him with the news, he'd thought she was pulling his leg. It wasn't until he'd been a sitting in one of _People_ 's studios, getting interviewed while the cameramen set up for a photo shoot that he realized it truly wasn't a joke.

For weeks, Steve hadn't mentioned anything to Becca. Bringing it up would sound like bragging no matter how much he would try to laugh it off. By some miracle, he'd thought she had managed to miss the news, but was then confused when Ally congratulated him and Becca didn't bat an eye.

"You knew?" he'd asked after Ally had left them alone in the apartment she shared with Becca.

Becca had looked offended. "Duh. I haven't said anything because I knew you'd be all embarrassed about it. That's part of what makes you sexy. That you didn't let this take you on an ego trip." She had slid onto his lap, nuzzling against his neck. "But now that it's all out in the open, I think some congratulations are in order."

Steve had tried to come up with a flattering comment about her being the sexiest woman in his life, but Becca's tongue had been distracting. They'd spent the rest of the afternoon being very distracted.

His neck began to feel warm. These were not the kind of recollections Steve wanted to have in the middle of a busy event, especially not while talking to someone else.

Stark smiled like he knew what Steve was thinking about. "I hope you got something good out of it. She pull out something special? For you that must be, what, holding hands in public and a peek at a bare ankle?"

"Funny."

The reporters were closing in, shouting questions about the Avengers. Steve didn't really want to be trapped in the middle of them. He'd preferred to go back to handing out drinks and being useful while keeping an eye out for Becca's parents.

Fortunately, Stark offered, "You go get back to playing waiter. I'll take care of this."

"You sure?" Steve did appreciate that Stark took on the majority of the press having to do with the Avengers, but he would stay if needed.

"Yeah. I didn't see my face on any of the newspaper stands on the way here." Stark snorted like he couldn't believe his image wasn't splashed across the tabloids at all times. "So it's time to do some PR before everyone starts missing me."

"All right. Thanks." Steve left him to it and headed back towards the refreshment tents where he spotted Becca's parents, Molly appearing exasperated while Ben chatted amicably with the volunteers. Steve waved, and with obvious relief, Molly waved back.


	2. Sin City

Becca had been aghast when Steve mentioned that Thor had never been to a movie theater. Was Jane not into movies? Or hadn't the Avengers taken time to drop by a theater? No one could tell her they didn't have two hours of free time to spare.

"It was at the top of our list, but then we figured maybe we should work on taking down Hydra first," Steve commented, her distress clearly amusing him. "I know that's not quite as important."

Becca took the phone from his pocket and pressed it into his hands. "Text him. This is a Code Red."

"Code Red because…?"

"Because that's what color I'm gonna be seeing if you don't text him _immediately_."

When Steve asked what movie he should tell Thor they were inviting him to, Becca double-checked on what was in theaters. Then she thought that, as this would be Thor's first theater experience, they should do something special like attending a midnight premiere. She searched around. It had to be coming out in the not-too-distant future, so the trip didn't get sidelined be a mission. A movie that they could all enjoy. A movie that was generating excitement so there would be that great midnight premiere buzz.

Becca decided on _Sin City: A Dame to Kill For_. She had enjoyed the first film, and knew there were a lot of people looking forward to this installment. Plus, it was highly stylized, so they could dress up! Nothing amazing like the hard-core cosplayers, but costumes on a budget. She clicked through some of the posters of the characters. Ugh, Eva Green looked stunning, but Becca knew she personally looked terrible in white. It made her freckles pop while turning the rest of her skin deathly pale. She'd be much better off in the leather jackets the men wore. Wait. Gender-swap. She grinned. Perfect.

After telling her plans to Steve, Becca also suggested he invite Natasha. She didn't want Thor feeling like a third wheel. Since he knew Natasha, and she and Steve were close friends – and Becca liked to think she was Natasha's friend as well considering what they went through after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell – it made sense.

While perusing the local Good Will for ideas the next afternoon, Becca got a text from Natasha.

" _Heard you were playing dress up with Thor and Steve. I want in."_

As it turned out, Becca was really glad that Natasha had signed on because she had an eye for color. Steve was good with a needle and thread. And Thor, he was more than willing to try on literally anything they told him to. Their costumes were slowly assembled over the next week until the night of the premiere on which they all met in Becca and Steve's apartment.

Becca was going as Dwight. She was dressed all in black from her high-heeled boots to her leather trench coat with the collar popped. She tousled her hair beneath a fedora and smeared a little fake blood under right eye and across the top of her lip for effect. Walking around with a gun on display might've made people nervous – even though she did have a license to carry – but she donned a gun holster for effect, making sure it was positioned so everyone could see the holster was obviously empty.

She had gotten dressed in the bedroom with Natasha, who had elected to go as Hartigan, even though he supposedly wouldn't be in the sequel as much. She had a thing for Bruce Willis, which Becca hadn't expected, but wasn't judging. Besides, Natasha was rocking the power suit beneath her tan trench coat. Using a white eyeliner pencil, she had drawn Hartigan's signature X-shaped scar on her forehead before leaving the room to help make Steve a brunette with some temporary hair-dye.

When Becca left the bedroom, Thor was pacing around the couch, getting a feel for his thigh high boots. And he could rock the leather booty shorts. They'd chosen Nancy's character for him, mostly because of her long blond hair. In addition to the gold sequined shirt they'd torn up to almost bra size, he had on a cowboy hat and belt of fake ammunition. He looked like a cowboy stripper, and it was great.

With concern, Thor asked, "Have you been hurt?"

"No, it's fake. Don't worry," Becca assured him, tapping the skin beneath one of her fake cuts to show she was fine. "You're looking good."

"Many thanks." Thor smiled. "Wearing this garb puts me in mind of the performances during the Festival of Winternights."

"Really?" Cowboy hats and short-shorts were not how she pictured Asgardians celebrating. Robes and big amulets and fantasy- _Skyrim_ armor had seemed more likely.

"Yes. It is a night of great revelry on which we may don different faces." He tugged on the skimpy shirt. "And it is not unheard of for men to pass as women and women as men."

"Huh. The more you know."

Thor nodded. "Indeed. Loki…" His expression fell. "He would have the most clever disguises. It… it was a favored holiday of his."

"Oh…" Becca wasn't sure what to say. I'm sorry that your brother died, but he seemed like a total jackass so I don't feel _that_ bad? Probably best to keep that to herself. "Well, I'm sure he'd be happy to know you're carrying on the tradition." Yeah, wear the booty shorts to honor your dead Norse-god brother who once tried to take over the world. Her life was so weird sometimes.

Thor nodded. "I would like to think so." He peered at her fake injuries. "Is there more of this fake-blood?"

There hadn't been any blood on Nancy in the trailers or posters, but considering it was _Sin City_ , there would probably be blood on her at some point. And since Thor seemed interested, they had fun in the kitchen putting different wounds on him. Becca did the application, but having seen countless injuries over the many, many years of his life, Thor gave her tips. Although, it mostly just ended up looking like he'd been through a massacre.

"In fairness, if Nancy had your muscles, she'd probably be tearing people in half," Becca decided, dripping more blood onto his arms.

"I have never torn someone in half." Thor cleared his throat. "At least, it was never my intention."

Becca lifted an eyebrow. "You accidently tore someone in half? Jeez, remind me never to make you mad."

Natasha appeared in the kitchen doorway, leaning casually against the frame. "Five minutes for his hair to dry and then we can go."

Impatient to see Steve in full costume, Becca got up from the kitchen table. "You can wash your hands in the sink," she told Thor before making her way to the bathroom.

Steve was sitting utterly still on the closed toilet. His hair was now dark brown, and some product had also been put in to slick it back with a slight wave. He had a towel around his neck to protect his all-white clothes. Of course, someone had to dress up as Eva Green's femme fatale, Ava. He had on a white flowing shirt, like on the cover of one of those books her mom referred to as "bodice-rippers." He, like Thor, was also wearing booty shorts. Becca was sure his ass looked fabulous in them, but his thighs were also benefitting from the tight fit. No thigh-high boots though, rather faux-Italian loafers with golden buckles. And his lips, like Ava's, were a brilliant red. She hadn't expected the lipstick, but it was a nice touch.

As per usual, Steve managed to make everything on him – even lipstick – look good. And, as per usual, he didn't manage to see it. "That bad, huh?" he asked, misinterpreting her smile.

"It's perfect."

"Hm." Steve gave her a once over. "You're not looking too bad yourself."

"You like me as a big, tough detective?"

"I'm not sure. You dress up as one and I'll let you know."

Becca huffed, but got an idea. One right out of those bodice-rippers. "With a smart mouth like that, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to take you downtown."

"Yeah?" Steve chuckled.

"Yeah. But first I'll have to search you for any concealed weapons."

Steve snorted. "I don't think I could conceal a weapon in this outfit if I tried."

Becca leaned down, mouth curved downwards into what she hoped was an intimidating frown. "Are you lying to me, mister?"

Eyebrows pinched in confusion, Steve said, "Uh, no?"

Quickly, Becca grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him against the back of the toilet, making the lid rattle. Steve gasped in a breath, one of his hands shooting up to clutch her wrist. "I know you're lying, and lying's a punishable offense." She flickered her tongue against his ear and drew back just enough to see comprehension dawning on Steve's face. "You got anything you want to admit to?"

"No." His voice was barely a whisper. Steve glanced at the door, his cheeks tinging an adorable pink as he must be considering that they weren't alone in the apartment. "No, ma'am."

"Well then…" Becca lowered herself onto his lap. "I guess I'll just have to make you talk." She let her lips brush his, but when Steve moved forward to turn the contact into a full kiss, she leaned back. "Later." She rolled her hips against his once, a promise, a test. She grinned in triumph. "And there's the concealed weapon." She got to her feet and pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek. "I'll tell them your hair needs a few more minutes 'cause, um, those shorts really don't hide much."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck when Becca winked at him. Tonight was going to be a good night. She could tell.


	3. The Three Wise Women

"If I could just have you ladies wait here."

Becca adjusted Steve's scarf before shooing him off to the wings of the platform where the giant Christmas tree was waiting to be lit. She had watched the tree lighting in Rockefeller Center for as long as she could remember, mostly on TV, but twice in person. Never had she thought she would be a part of it.

Ever since S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen and what with… what had happened afterwards, the Avengers had been making a lot of public appearances and hosting events to show that they were still the good guys. Tony had designed special energy efficient lights for the tree, so they had been invited to do the honors of pressing the button to turn them all on. The tree lighting was supposed to be a family affair, so they'd brought what "family" they could, which amounted to Becca, Pepper, and Jane.

Becca had met Pepper twice before, but had only exchanged a few words. Jane, she'd never met before tonight. It was intimidating to be standing between them, one a high-powered business woman, the other an incredibly intelligent scientist, and both of them gorgeous. Apart from dating superheroes and freezing in this winter weather, she didn't think any of them had much in common.

But never one to stew in awkward silence, Becca ventured, "There are a lot of people here, huh? You'd think being in the crowd would make you realize how many people there are, but weirdly I think it seems like more from the outside."

"It does," Pepper agreed.

"As many as the Stark Expo, do you think?"

Pepper seemed to consider. "I think so." She paused as the crowd screamed for the Avengers, the roar nearly deafening as the sound bounced off walls. "But it's nice that they're not my responsibility for once. All I have to worry about is Tony." She sighed. "Or more precisely what he'll say."

"I hear that."

The last time Steve had spoken at a press conference, he'd gotten into an argument with a reporter over immigration. Becca still wasn't certain how the subject had even come up. Sometimes she was pretty sure Steve picked fights on purpose to draw attention to an issue he felt strongly about. Case in point, he'd once agreed to an interview on Fox News. Becca had never been so torn between second-hand embarrassment and laughing her ass off as when she watched that interview.

"Thor doesn't seem as…" Becca had to reflect on how to word this. "Well, he seems quieter."

"He is," Jane agreed. "I don't really worry what he'll say so much as… well… he just _does_ things."

"What'd you mean?"

"I don't think he's used to asking for permission. Like when I was working on my most recent paper on the fallacies of the Kruskal-Szekeres coordinates, I'd written down a list of research texts I needed from the library, so he went while I was in the shower and walked out with them." Jane grimaced. "I know he wanted to help, but having to talk to an angry librarian was… not something I'd like to do again."

"Gotcha," said Becca with a sympathetic nod. "I'm sure it must be hard with a whole different culture for him to get used to. Although, it's definitely also hard being on the other end. I had to explain to Steve what an Xbox was the other day. An Xbox. How he's gone over two years without finding that out, I really don't understand. And he seemed less than impressed when I had one of my friends bring hers over so he could try."

Jane shared, "I left Thor playing one once when we went out shopping. Well, when Darcy made us go shopping to get him some more clothes, but anyway, he really likes videogames, but when he gets into them, he gets – we've gone through five controllers."

"Yikes." Becca nodded to Pepper. "What about Tony? Is he into videogames?"

"He had a phase. It stopped when he forced me to play with him and I kept winning." Pepper rolled her eyes upwards in exasperation. "Saying he's dramatic would be an understatement."

"Oh god, Steve is a total drama queen."

Becca and Pepper looked to Jane, who gave them the first real smile Becca had seen from her. "Thor flipped over a table when Darcy told him that the world had run out of poptarts."

"Tch." Becca shook her head. "We might be dating superheroes, but I think we know who the real heroes are."

The women laughed.

"All right, who wants to see us light up this tree?" Tony asked into a mic, and the crowd shouted their approval. "Then let's get everyone out here and we'll light her up."

That was their cue. Becca fell in line behind Pepper as they filed up the steps into the wings and out onto the stage.

"Here they are. The most beautiful one is Ms. Potts, as I'm sure you all know. Of course, you ladies are also looking good. A little cold."

"Did I mention he's competitive, too?" Pepper said quietly. It was surprisingly easy to understand her considering how little she moved her mouth. She gave Tony an admonishing look, which he ignored, but with her beside him, he stood a bit taller.

Behind her, Becca heard Jane mutter, "Tell me about it." She glanced at Thor, who was frowning at Tony like he was deciding whether or not he needed to defend Jane's honor or whatever the Asgardian equivalent was. But when Jane touched his arm, Thor all but melted into a big teddy-bear smile.

Steve wrapped an arm around Becca's waist, as if he could protect her from the weather. "Are you cold?" he murmured into her ear. "Because you can have my scarf. Or my hat."

"I'm already wearing a scarf," Becca whispered back, although the open air winchill was making her face hurt enough that she'd like to burrow her cheeks into the added fabric. "And a hat will totally ruin my hair for the dinner afterwards." She didn't need messy hair showing up in photos while Steve was trying to make a good impression.

Of course, Steve ignored her concern. He took off the blue knit hat she'd gotten for him and pulled it carefully over her head. Becca fought the urge to take it off, as they were in front of a huge crowd of people and a lot of TV cameras. Instead, she adjusted the hat as well as she could so that it wouldn't slip off her smaller head. For someone who was so reckless in his own actions, Steve was such a worry wart when it came to her health. But she supposed this would be points in his favor. She was surprised there hadn't been a collective "awww."

Becca sighed. She would put up with his dramatics, and seeing his gaze soften as she leaned against him, she did have to admit, it's wasn't all that hard. Most of the time.

The group gathered around the button, hands placed on top of one another as they squished together.

"Your call, Cap," said Tony, and he tilted the mic towards Steve.

Steve nodded. "On one." The crowd counted down with him. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

With a push, the button activated and the lights on the towering Christmas tree glowed. Cheers erupted. There was a sound like gunfire, and Becca felt Steve tense. She took his hand and squeezed. With a grateful look, he squeezed back as white confetti fell around them like snow.

"Merry Christmas, everyone," called Tony, grinning as if he were responsible for bringing in the season.

Pepper muttered something to him. He waved her off, so she took the mic from his hand, and added, "Happy Holidays."

They acknowledged the crowd with varying levels on enthusiasm. Thor had picked Jane up and set her on his shoulders. She was blushing in embarrassment, but also laughing as he held their hands up like champions after a game. Natasha was speaking into Clint's ear as they waved, and he peered up at one of the buildings in a way that was slightly worrying. Bruce looked like he was trying to disappear behind Tony, who was trying without success to nudge Pepper under what might have been mistletoe. And Steve and Becca held hands, waving and smiling.


	4. Happy Birthday, We Tried

Steve hated to miss Becca's birthday. Other holidays she enjoyed, but she wasn't one to fuss about them. Birthdays were the exception. Becca loved birthdays. She had once explained to him that she liked the idea of celebrating the people you knew instead of abstract concepts or historical events. She had said birthdays felt more real. And she enjoyed being around people, picking out presents, and any excuse to eat cake. Steve had missed holidays, anniversaries, other times people celebrated together. Becca had never seemed too disappointed, except when they had planned a weekend trip to see the Northern Lights together months in advance and he got called in the night before they were supposed to leave. It was one of the few times they'd had a fight, a real fight during which he'd accused her of being selfish – what he'd actually said was "we can't be selfish" but Becca _was_ a part of that "we" – and she'd accused him of being a "self-righteous asshole with a fucking white knight complex." In any case, he had always managed to be around for her birthday, and the year he'd been gone for his, she had instead thrown him a party on his half-birthday (which he was still dubious counted as an actual holiday.)

However, this year was different. This year he was in Sokovia with Nat, Tony, Clint, and the new recruits. After the destruction Ultron had caused, Steve had felt it was their duty to help bring order to the chaos. The crime which had sprung up in the wake of the disaster afforded a training opportunity in addition to the workout regiment and team exercises he was putting the new recruits through. He thought they were doing well, and helping rebuild the country seemed to do them some good, especially Wanda.

He could have, hypothetically, left for Becca's birthday, but there were several reasons Steve decided against this. The plane ride to and from New York would take over half a day in and of itself, even with a private plane. They were closing in on the remainders of the Hydra crime ring that still had its hooks in the country. There had been grumbling on the news about an act being voted on by the United Nations called the "Sovokia Accords," which he wasn't too keen on the sound of. He figured that by showing the Avengers did concern themselves with taking care of the messes they were in some way responsible for, the government would back off. As the leader of the Avengers, he should remain in Sovokia to show they were united on this, especially since Bruce and Thor had gone off the grid.

The least Steve could do until he got home to take Becca out for a belated birthday celebration was to make her a cake.

The first year they'd been dating, Becca had been nervous about her birthday. It had fallen about a month after she had joined Narcotics Anonymous, and she was afraid that, because she had pushed so many people away, most of her friends wouldn't want to come over. Steve had reassured her but waited for an opportunity to take Ally aside and see that she was contacting Becca's other friends. Before he got the chance, Ally pounced on him while Becca was in the bathroom. She confided that she was planning a surprise party, much to his relief. When he offered to help in whatever needed to be done, Ally asked that he pick up the cake.

The sheet cake which Ally had ordered was large and unwieldy, which was why, Steve assumed, she had asked him to make the trip. He regarded the cake sitting on his kitchen table with its blinding white frosting and loopy writing and simple, sugar flowers. He was sure the flavor was good, but it looked like every other cake he'd seen on display at grocery stories. He had looked forward to his birthday as a kid because Ma would make him a cake special, and watching her mixing together the ingredients she'd saved up to buy, setting the cake in front of him made with care and getting a kiss on his cheek, that's what made a birthday cake. Besides, at the time, he hadn't been entirely sure the surprise party wasn't ruined on his account.

"Half of my friends haven't even responded," Becca had sulked the day before. She tossed her phone aside where it bounced harmlessly against a couch cushion. "I know I fucked up but… they could at least respond."

Steve had wanted to tell her about the party, the knowledge like an animal pawing insistently at the door to its cage. Becca looked so darn heartbroken, and if he told her about the party, she wouldn't be sad anymore. But he had promised Ally to keep the party a secret.

"What's that look?" Becca had asked.

"What look?"

"You're giving me a weird look."

Steve had forced a smile that was not as convincing as he'd like it to be. "Just thinking how much I love you." As excuses went, it had been a poor one, and Becca wasn't dumb. It wasn't until after the party that she learned to consistently recognize when he was trying to cover something up, but even then she had regarded him suspiciously. "And I'm sure your friends will get back to you soon."

Becca had tilted her head, considering, but eventually she sighed and looked away. "Maybe."

If he had ruined the surprise of the party, at least he could surprise her with a cake.

Steve had to purchase a cake tin and several baking ingredients on short notice, but he made Ma's apple cake with its sugar glaze, finishing in time to catch the subway to Becca's apartment with the cake Ally had ordered. Friends and family were setting up, and when Ally brought Becca back from getting their nails done, everything was in place. She did seem surprised, and overjoyed to see everyone. What really made the night for him though was when Becca had come home with him in the early hours – she'd given up her bedroom to visiting family – and he showed her the cake he'd made. She had fixed him with a beaming smile, her sleepiness temporarily forgotten. She'd looked so beautiful, so happy.

The next year, Steve had made the cake again, and this year he was determined to do the same. He'd have it shipped special so the cake arrived intact and on time. If he couldn't be there, at least Becca would know he was thinking of her.

Tony had rented out several floors of an apartment building for their stay in Sokovia, and while the kitchen in the suite Steve was sharing with Sam and Clint had some cooking equipment, it didn't have everything he needed. He asked Wanda to go shopping with him. He understood the native language generally – it was similar to German – and had the rudimentary ability to speak it, but he didn't know how to translate words such as "baking soda" and "cake tin," and furthermore, he didn't even know what brands were good.

Wanda spoke little on their shopping trip. She'd spoken less in the week after her brother had died, but seemed to open up more after developing an unlikely friendship with Vision. Although, Steve figured it might not be so unlikely considering her previous camaraderie with Ultron.

Even so, when he walked her to the door of the apartment she shared with Nat, Wanda said, "I have not helped to make a cake since I was very small."

Steve understood the unspoken request. Wanda was the type of person who needed to fill up her time with action. She didn't like sitting idle or in quiet, and he imagined that Nat was the quiet kind of roommate.

"Well, if you want, I could use the extra set of hands. And I'm not quite sure of how the temperature on the oven works. Too used to Fahrenheit." This was a lie, but Wanda didn't call him out on it. Instead, she followed Steve up to the suite.

Clint and Sam were watching _House of Cards_ on Netflix, which Steve only recognized because they had been watching it the previous evening after several episodes _Pit Bulls & Parolees_, which, according to Clint, he only watched because his kids liked it, but Steve was pretty sure he had a soft spot for watching former felons rescue abused dogs.

"Find everything?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Steve replied as he placed the shopping bags on the island in the kitchen. He set aside several apples and had Wanda peel them as he measured out the other ingredients.

Eventually, Clint turned his head to survey the island. "What kind of birthday cake needs apples?"

"Uh." Steve carefully scraped off the excess cinnamon from the teaspoon he was using. "Apple cake?"

"Is that what they used to have?" Clint looked glad he wasn't the one receiving this particular birthday cake. "At least tell me the frosting's chocolate."

Steve explained, "It's more like a glaze than a frosting. Just some water and powdered sugar."

"You're making birthday cake for your girlfriend, and you're not even using chocolate?" Clint glanced at Sam, scoffing like he couldn't believe it. "Help me out here."

Sam shrugged. "Women do dig chocolate."

" _Everyone_ digs chocolate." Clint got up from the couch and beckoned Wanda. "Come on, kid. We're going to get chocolate for that glaze."

"If you got some heavy cream, we could make a chocolate ganache." When everyone looked at him, Sam said, "What? The Food Network helps me fall asleep."

Clint shook his head. "All right. I'll pick up some heavy cream and a couple bars of chocolate." He peered at the scattered ingredients. "And those little frosting tube things you use for writing. Do they have those here?"

Wanda's brow creased as she thought. "I'm… not sure."

"Guess we'll find out."

While Clint and Wanda made a return trip to the store, Sam picked up on peeling and cutting the apples. Steve had the cake batter ready to pour into the tin when Nat knocked on the door.

"I thought you might've gotten lost in one of the aisles, and I'd have to come get the two of you," Nat said in greeting. "Where's Wanda?"

"Out with Clint," Steve informed her. "They're getting some heavy cream for a chocolate ganache. Apparently a glaze is too old fashioned."

As he stuck the now full cake tin in the oven, Sam corrected, "That's not what I said."

"Mmm." Nat invited herself in, not that Steve minded, and perched on the back of the couch. She unpaused _House of Cards_ and rewound it a bit before restarting. "I think Becca would like the chocolate, but if this is her favorite…"

In truth, Steve had no idea what Becca's favorite kind of cake was. He had never asked, and wondered if making this apple cake had been such a good idea. Becca was usually the kind who spoke her mind, but if she thought he'd put effort into something that made him proud, she was also the kind to humor him. Maybe she'd like something else.

"I'm not sure what's her favorite," Steve confessed, hovering closed to the oven with his hand resting on the handle. He'd finish this cake. There were plenty of people who'd be happy to have it, but he could text Becca and ask what she liked. Better, he had Ally's number in case of emergencies. While this didn't exactly qualify, he thought it was an important question. "This is the cake my ma made for me. It's what I know."

"If you make it for her, I'm sure she'll like it," Sam comforted with a friendly pat on Steve's back. "That shows you care about her." He leaned back against the counter looking thoughtful. "Myself, I'm a fan of butter cream. Used to be that sugary paste they pass off as frosting when you buy cakes from the local market, but that's the first thing I had when I came back from my last tour and well… What about you, Natasha? Do they have a particular kind of frosting in Russia?"

Nat remained glued to the tv, but in a deadpan voice replied, "No. There's no frosting in Russia. We just pour vodka right over the cake."

Steve snorted, and Sam let out a laugh.

The next knock on the door wasn't Clint returning, but Tony, Rhodey, and Vision.

"We're going for dinner," Tony informed them. "You can come if you want."

"Training's in less than an hour," Steve reminded him. He didn't think they'd be back on time if they went out now. Even if they were, training on a full stomach wouldn't lead anywhere good.

"So Cap's not coming," said Tony dismissively. "What about you two?"

Sam told him, "We're making a cake. With the ganche and everything, it won't be done for at least another forty minutes."

"All right. We'll be back for dessert."

"It's not for us," Steve interjected, annoyed that Tony planned on skipping training and was trying to get the rest of the team to go with him. "It's a birthday cake I'm sending to Becca."

"What kind?"

"Apple."

Tony frowned like he wasn't sure he had heard right. "Apple? Women like chocolate."

"So I've heard."

"That's not entirely fair," Vision interjected. "All women do not like chocolate, and I believe that what Captain Rogers is doing is a romantic gesture which will be appreciated by his partner."

"Thanks."

"And how many women have either of you dated?" Tony questioned.

Steve frowned. "From what I've heard, about as many as –"

"Aw," Rhodey interrupted. Steve glanced at him with the expectation of him adding to the argument, but Rhodey was looking at the TV. "You guys have been watching _House of Cards_ without me? This is my favorite episode."

Nat gestured to the couch. "Knock yourself out." Rhodey slipped past Tony to join her.

Tony followed his friend's movement impatiently. "Fine. I'm going with Vision."

"Actually, I believe Captain Rogers has a point. It is not good for a human's digestive system to eat before extensive exercise." Vision stepped forward. "May I come in as well to watch _House of Cards_?"

Steve nodded. "Sure."

"But, you don't even have a –" Tony started to protest, but clenched his teeth. Steve thought he would announce he was going to get food by himself, but Tony shrugged like he didn't care. "It's too early for dinner anyway," he said before joining Rhodey and Nat on the couch, slumping against in the cushions in a decidedly sulky manner.

They were onto the next episode of _House of Cards_ and the cake was sitting out to cool when Wanda and Clint returned. There had been concern before then about their long absence, but Nat had texted Clint and assured them all that the problem was trying to locate the tubes of colored frosting for writing.

"I think we searched every store in Sokovia." Clint held up a package of the frosting tubes like a trophy after a hard-fought game. "But we found 'em. And we got plenty of bars of chocolate, so you can make a real birthday cake."

Steve sighed. He didn't think making a cake with or without chocolate was quite as big of a deal as this, but apparently he had been wrong.

The first problem was the chocolate ganache. Sam knew the recipe, but since Clint had found the chocolate and Vision was watching curiously, he let them work and just gave instructions. Unfortunately, they didn't have the temperature of the stove set right, and the cream boiled over. Then, there wasn't enough to properly mix with the chocolate so the color was too dark and, according to Sam, "a little less thick than usual, but that's all right." Then, he tasted it and realized they'd burnt the chocolate. So they had to make another batch, this time with Wanda putting the stove to the correct temperature.

The second problem was making the cake two layers. Clint thought it would be a good idea to cut the cake in half to put a layer of ganache in the middle. The cake didn't seem big enough, but Steve let him against his better judgment. The cut wasn't exactly even.

"It'll be covered in ganache," Sam comforted, when Steve rubbed a hand against his face in distress. "She won't even know." He looked down at the second bowl of ganache Vision handed him and stirred the whisk around once. "Man, what is with the consistency? Someone Google this."

Maybe it was the consistency, but the third problem came when the ganache didn't pour over the cake evenly. They tried to make it even by spreading the ganache out with a couple of knifes, but all that accomplished was making odd ridges. Tony took it upon himself to point out where the ganache appeared too thick and which patches of cake weren't covered enough and where the bumps were.

"Should you even be near homemade food?" Rhodey asked. "I've heard stories from Pepper."

Huffing in affront, Tony protested, "That was _one_ omelet, and I thought it tasted good. And I think I can tell when frosting looks level."

"Uh huh." Rhodey flipped to another episode of _House of Cards_. "Why don't you make another batch and pour it over the top?"

So they made a third batch of ganache, which Sam insisted they let sit for longer as per the instructions to a recipe Nat had found on Google. She was hanging back, but there was a faint air of amusement as she watched them all from her perch on the back of the couch.

The ganache sat for too long, thickening to a consistency closer to frosting, and there wasn't enough of it to spread over the whole cake as they had used up all of the heavy cream and most of the chocolate.

Finally, Sam decreed, "I think this is as good as it's gonna get."

"I don't know. I think it could use another layer of chocolate or Becca might not like it," Steve remarked. He was frustrated with how the cake was turning out and wishing he had done the apple cake how he wanted to in the first place. Becca deserved a nice looking cake. At this point, though, they might as well finish. He could make another cake for her later tonight and eat this one himself.

To avoid rousing suspicion, Steve took care in writing "Happy Birthday, Becca" in red frosting. But when he declared the cake finished and was about to announce that they needed to head out for training, Clint interrupted, "Oh no. We didn't trek all over Sovokia for just a 'happy birthday.' We're going to decorate this cake." He picked up a tube of blue frosting and started making the petals of a flower.

There was a moment of hesitation, during which they all seemed to be waiting for a cue from Steve. He didn't know what to do. Let them waste time making a cake he was going to eat later? If he stopped them would that give him away? While he was still debating, Wanda hesitantly grabbed a tube of yellow frosting. She uncapped it, glanced at him, and lowered her attention to the cake. Then, Sam picked up a tube. Then, Vision. Then, Rhodey. Then, Tony.

Steve realized as he watched them that they were all working together on the cake as a team. It might not be the exercise he had in mind, but that didn't mean there were no benefits. They helped each other, jostled with each other for space around the island, made compromises, made mistakes. This might not be a waste of time after all. He picked up the last neglected tube – black – and held it out towards Nat. She looked at it for a moment and shrugged.

"What the hell." Nat got off the couch and joined in.

In the end, the ganache didn't matter so much because the cake had become so covered in colorful frosting that the chocolate was barely visible. Looking at it was like viewing a painting done by several artists with various opposing styles and levels of talent. A field of blue cartoon flowers by Clint pressed against a rose done by Vision with an unbelievable amount of realism. Wanda had started with what might have been flowers but transitioned into a strange geometric designs and shapes. Rhodey and Tony had made balloons, their strings tied with a bow that appeared fairly three-dimensional. Across the spaces between everyone else's work, Nat had scattered tiny black stars

After surveying their handiwork, Sam announced, "Well... it's unique."

"Unique?" Tony repeated with a laugh. "It's a mess. You mind as well buy her one, Cap. I'll ask Pepper where she gets her birthday cakes."

Wanda frowned. "We could try again, yes?"

"No," Steve said, stopping them all.

He could picture Becca getting this cake on her birthday. Her eyes would light up when she saw who it was from. She'd eagerly bring the package into her apartment, nibbling her bottom lip as she considered the possibilities. Maybe she'd shift the package back and forth, up and down trying to guess by its weight. Carefully, though. It would be hand delivered and marked "FRAGILE." She would get the scissors to cut open the tape. No hesitating. When she got a present, Becca liked to rip the wrapping paper right off. For a second, she would be bewildered at what was inside, but then she would understand. And she'd smile that beaming smile.

"She'll love it."


	5. Puppy Pandemonium

The aroma in the apartment was already delicious by the time Steve returned from the grocery store with onions. He was greeted by Sandy, the four-year-old pit bull terrier he'd adopted with Becca a few weeks back, who trotted out from the kitchen at the sound of the door closing. She hopped up on his leg, sniffing eagerly at the bag in his hand.

"Stay outta there," Steve admonished, lifting the bag higher. "These aren't for you." Rather than looking chastised, Sandy wagged her tail harder, happy for the attention. He patted her head, and Sandy followed him into the kitchen, nose held up in the air and still sniffing.

Bucky stood at the stove, watching over a skillet full of peppers and slices of steak which had been marinating in fajita sauce since after lunch. He was doing much better than when Steve had found him. Steve knew this not because Bucky was cooking – Bucky had been able to attend to his basic needs from beginning – but rather because he didn't flinch when Becca touched his arm, using him as a prop for keeping her balance as she reached for a high shelf. It made Steve glad to see that Bucky's original unease around Becca was fading. As the two most important people in his life, he wanted them to get along.

"Smells good."

Becca jumped about ten feet in the air and might have teetered over if she hadn't been holding onto Bucky, who didn't move at all.

"Jesus," Becca sighed. "Can't you make noise when you get home like a normal person?"

Steve argued, "I did. I had to keep Sandy out of your onions."

"Well, I didn't hear you."

"Sandy and Bucky both heard me."

"Sandy's a dog and Bucky has the same super-sonic hearing you do, and does not, therefore, count." Becca patted Bucky's arm. "Sorry." Bucky shrugged. "Also, I might have had my head in the fridge."

Steve folded his arms. "So the truth comes out."

"That doesn't mean you aren't freakishly quiet when you move."

Bucky suggested, "You could get him a collar. One of the ones with those little bells."

"Hmmm." Becca gave Steve a wicked look that made his body temperature rise a couple degrees. "What do you think?" she asked with all the innocence in the world, as though her eyes weren't fitting him into a collar by which she could tug him into the bedroom.

Instead of answering the question, Steve changed the subject. "I think I went all the way to Mercatto's for onions, and I haven't even gotten so much as a thank you."

Becca slipped him a wink as she said, "Thank you." She set down the pepper flakes she'd retrieved on the table beside a bowl of half-made guacamole and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Bucky glanced back over his shoulder, in that split second, Steve swore he looked amused.

"What can I help with?" Steve asked. "Cutting the onions?"

"Actually, I think Bucky and I can hold down the kitchen. But if you're looking for something to do, I know a furry someone who's gotten awful smelly."

Sandy had settled near the stove, resting her head on her paws, but watching Bucky's every move in the hopes of getting a slice of steak. And she no longer smelled quite so nice as she had coming from the shelter where they'd bathed her right around the time he and Becca had picked her out.

"I think I can handle that." Steve slapped the outside of his knee. "Come on, girl."

With a last hopeful look at the stove, Sandy got to her feet and padded across the kitchen floor. Steve took her into the bathroom, where he retrieved the shampoo and towel they'd bought for her from the closet.

"All right," Steve said, rolling up his sleeves. "Ready for your bath?"

Sandy's ears twitched. She knew some words, like "food" and "come," and Steve thought he might have found another.

"You know that word? Bath?"

Sandy's ears twitched again and she tilted her head. Steve grinned. They'd picked out the right dog for sure. His dog was smart.

"Well then, you'll know the routine."

Steve leaned down to pick Sandy up, but she skittered back a step. He considered that maybe she didn't like being picked up. She was on the larger side, so whoever had her before might've dropped her. She did have some scars from being mistreated.

"It's okay, girl," Steve soothed, getting down on his knees. He held out a hand, and Sandy sniffed at it. Thinking he had reassured her, Steve slowly moved his hand towards her body. "I'm just gonna put you in the bath."

Sandy promptly leapt backwards. Steve made to grab her, but she nosed the door open and was gone. He decided maybe it was baths she didn't like. As usual, he should've kept his trap shut.

Steve had heard Sandy's nails clacking back towards the kitchen, so that's the direction he went. But she had passed right by the entryway because he spotted her in the living room. She sat in front of the coffee table, staring at him as though she had expected him to come after her, which she probably had. He tried holding out his hand again.

"Come."

Sandy stayed where she was. In the voice he used to give orders, Steve repeated the command. Sandy itched her side with a paw, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Steve took a step towards her. She lowered her paw, but otherwise didn't move. He took another step. She still didn't move, but her tail began to wag. He reached down quickly, the back of one hand brushing against her, but Sandy dashed off around the coffee table. He followed her around twice before stopping. Sandy stopped too, a safe distance away.

What could he do? Steve would like to run or jump over the coffee table, but there wasn't enough space in the living room and he could knock over or break some of the furniture.

"You wanna go for a walk?" Steve tried. Sandy's ears perked up. He went over to the front door and picked up her leash. "Let's go."

But Sandy remained planted in the middle of the living room. Steve sighed. He couldn't even lie convincingly to a dog. He needed to try another tactic.

"Hey, Buck?"

Sandy had taken a real liking to Bucky. Steve thought it might have to do with the fact that they slept on the couch together. She had a dog bed, of course, but she'd taken to curling up with Bucky since the very first night. Some mornings, Steve would find them still sleeping, Bucky's head poking out of one end of the blankets and Sandy's head poking out the other.

When Bucky appeared in the kitchen doorway, Steve asked, "Could you get a hold of her?"

Bucky gave Steve a confused look. Still, he crouched down and held out his hands. "C'mere, sweetheart."

Sandy took a hesitant step forward, but she must have decided it wasn't worth the risk because she didn't come any closer, even when Bucky called her name.

Bucky got up and asked, "What'd you do to her?"

"Nothing. I don't think she likes b-a-t-h-s," Steve confided.

"Huh." Bucky went into the kitchen and came out with a dog treat. "Here, sweetheart. Come." He held out the treat. Sandy sniffed, her tongue darting out to lick her nose. It was a good idea, but even a treat wasn't enough to lure her close.

Steve decided, "I don't think that's gonna work either. We'll have to trap her. You stay on her front. I'll try to get around back."

What should have been a flawless execution of a simple plan turned rapidly into pandemonium. Steve had been through battles that were more straightforward. As he and Bucky attempted to surround Sandy, she lowered her face onto her front paws, rump up in the air and tail wagging madly. To her, this was a game. She darted to the left as they enclosed on her. When they attempted to back her into a corner, Sandy outmaneuvered them, scooting around their legs with surprising speed. They chased her around the coffee table, and she jumped over the top. She hid beneath a chair, darting out at the last second to evade their hands. When she ran into the kitchen, they split up to cover both entrances, but she booked it straight under the table and out again.

Over and over, Steve found himself skidding to a halt to avoid crashing into Bucky, although they continually knocked into each other. Bucky accidently caught Steve in the jaw with his metal arm, which smarted something fierce. Steve grabbed Bucky's leg by mistake and nearly pulled him over. Meanwhile, Sandy was barking excitedly, resting when they stopped to come up with a different strategy, only to jump up at the first sign of movement. Steve was starting to think their dog was _too_ smart.

Finally, they got her cornered between the end of the couch and the wall. Bucky got on the couch, holding out his arms so that Sandy couldn't jump up and use the couch as her escape route. Steve knelt in the opening.

"You gonna come quietly now?" he asked. Sandy stared at him. Her tail had gone still. Steve took that as a sign of surrender. "Good girl."

But as he reached for her, Sandy leapt. She pushed off his shoulder, trying to sail right over. Steve grabbed around her belly, his back hitting the floor. She wriggled in his grasp and her short fur was too slippery.

"No!"

Sandy slid free.

"I got her!" Bucky shouted, diving onto the floor. His fingers closed around one paw, but when Sandy yelped, he quickly let go.

Steve rolled onto his hands and knees, pitching himself forward over Bucky in an attempt to catch Sandy before she got too far. "Damn it, dog," he growled. It was too late. Sandy was once again out of reach.

That's when Steve heard a sound he hadn't noticed until now. He thought Becca was choking at first. She was making these barely audible gasping noises, one hand over her mouth, the other wrapped around her stomach. She leaned against the kitchen doorframe like she needed it to support her, and her eyes were watering. Then, he realized she was laughing. She laughed so hard that, as he watched, she sunk down to the floor shaking with each spasm of mirth as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Steve stood up, sheepish and irritated. She could've helped instead of laughing at them. He offered Bucky a hand up, noting that Bucky appeared no more amused than he was.

"H-how many," Becca giggled, "super sol-soldiers does it take to – to catch one – freaking dog?" She made another noise like she was going to say more, but was overtaken by another bout of laughter.

When she put it like that, Steve realized the situation was kind of funny. Besides, he couldn't stay that annoyed when Becca was all but rolling on the floor. He grinned at Bucky, who gave him a rare grin in return.

"Oh god. Oh god, I hurt," Becca gasped. Sandy approached her cautiously, probably wondering if this was a ploy or a different game or her owner acting oddly. "I can't even." When Becca made no move to grab her, Sandy stuck her face up next to Becca's, licking the tears from her cheeks. Becca darted out a hand and, with exasperating ease, grabbed the scruff of Sandy's neck. She got to her feet, wiping her eyes. "You boys go finish up dinner. I've got this." With their dog firmly in hand, Becca walked off towards the bathroom still giggling. The last thing Steve heard her say before she shut the door was, "Years of academy training _wasted_ ," which sent her into another burst of hysterical, but muffled, laughter.

As he retied his messy ponytail, Bucky noted, "Guess we don't work so well together with a non-human target."

"Not yet," Steve corrected. "But I've got a feeling we'll be getting plenty of practice."

In the kitchen, Steve found out there wasn't much left to do. The onions had been chopped up and added in with the steak and peppers. Becca had finished the guacamole and a bean salad. He threw the tortillas onto a plate and stuck it in the microwave while Bucky resumed his station over the frying pan. After that, he set the table and, having nothing else, he turned the radio onto the news – he could practically hear Becca's teasing, "you're such an old man" – and took a seat.

Bucky didn't say a thing about the radio. Steve found it was nice sometimes to be around someone who didn't find his old habits strange. Sure, he knew he could watch or read the news on his phone like most everyone else, but he preferred listening to the radio. Bucky understood this, although he was far more likely to pick up on the latest trends. But then, he'd been awake for many of the years when Steve had been under the ice.

A story on the radio spurred them into a conversation about iPhones. Well, Steve did most of the talking, while Bucky listened and made the occasional comment. Becca's voice calling from the bathroom interrupted him mid-tangent about the waste of constant, unnecessary upgrades.

"Could one of you get my hairdryer? It's in the bedroom."

"You go ahead," Bucky insisted. "Get Sandy dried off. I'll keep the food warm."

Steve found the hairdryer resting against a box of tissues on their bureau. He brought it into the bathroom where Becca had her arms clasped tightly around Sandy, who had been wrapped in a towel. It looked like their dog wasn't the only one who'd had a bath. Becca's shirt was soaked, and patches of her pants were also wet. Water droplets beaded her hair, which had become as frazzled as Becca's expression.

She quickly instructed, "Leave it on the sink and shut the door."

Steve did shut the door, but stayed in the bathroom. "Decided a bath looked so fun you thought you'd join?"

Becca snorted. "Yeah. This was _so_ much fun." She let go of Sandy, who bolted immediately for the exit, the towel sliding off her. She pawed at the door and looked up at Steve expectantly.

"Sorry, girl." Steve tipped his head towards Becca. "She's the one in charge around here. I can't let you go until she says so."

"Oh sure," Becca grumbled, using her own towel to mop up water from the floor. His towel and Bucky's were also on the ground, having been used either to soak up more water or dry off Sandy. "Make me the bad guy."

Steve plugged in the hairdryer and settled down beside Sandy. "Well, I've already had my turn. It's not something I'd like to try again." He flipped the hairdryer on and changed it to the lowest setting. When he turned the hot stream of air towards Sandy, she stared at him balefully. He almost apologized for the betrayal.

"That's not funny," Becca said.

"It's a little funny."

"No. It's really not."

Occasionally when Becca got frustrated or angry, she didn't respond well to his usual remarks. Steve had learned to rein in his dry humor when this happened rather than upset her further. Besides, she had a point. There was nothing funny about those months. In fact, he tried to avoid thinking about that time when he could.

"You're right," Steve agreed. "It's not. I'm sorry."

Becca didn't respond, continuing to rub the floor with a ferocity that wouldn't actually help get the water up any faster.

"Dinner's done, so we can eat once Sandy's all set."

"Mmm."

"It's a miracle Bucky and I didn't knock anything over chasing this one around the living room, huh?" Steve hoped the memory would at least make Becca smile considering how much she'd laughed, but her lips didn't so much as twitch.

"Mmm."

"Is that a new shirt? It looks good on you." Becca lifted an eyebrow, which so far, was the most encouraging reaction he'd gotten, so Steve went on. "Have I told you lately how pretty you are?" Becca rolled her eyes, but there, he definitely saw her lips twitch. "'Cause you're beautiful. I mean, you are one swell dame."

For all she teased him about being old, Becca liked when he used old slang. She had never told him directly, but Steve had noticed over time how her expression got rather soft and dreamy when he did. Now, she shook her head, biting her bottom lip with a barely restrained smile.

"It's true, doll. You're the sweetest dish in town. Just looking at you makes me dizzy."

Becca finally paused in cleaning and looked up at him. "You're impossible."

"What's impossible are those peepers of yours." Steve found that jamming all the slang possible into these compliments was kind of fun. "Golly, they're as cute as a bug's ear."

"That might be the weirdest thing you've ever said to me, which is saying something," Becca laughed. She nudged a towel out of the way and shifted closer to him. "Okay you big lug, how about a smooch from your best girl and then we go have dinner?"

Steve grinned. "That'd be aces."

Becca kissed him. Steve wrapped an arm around her waist, the hairdryer lowering in his other hand, nearly forgotten. When she leaned against him, he couldn't imagine ever getting tired of holding her like this, his body responding to the insistent pressure of her lips.

Until an equally insistent, cool, wet nose pressed into his neck. Sandy was looking at them, her tail wagging.

Becca giggled. "I think she thinks it's a game. Like a kid. 'Mommy and daddy are wrestling! I want to play, too!'"

"Mommy and daddy?"

"Oh, does that not work for you? Too weird sounding?"

Steve thought about it. The whole reason getting a dog had even come up was Becca asking if he'd ever want to have kids. If everything went according to plan, Sandy was the closest they'd get. And dealing with Sandy already felt similar to how he imagined he'd feel about raising a kid.

"It works."

"Good because she's my kind of kid. All of the love without any of the labor pains." Becca moved to get up, so Steve stood to help her. She pulled open the door. "Go on," she told Sandy. "Go tell Uncle Bucky we're coming."

Sandy didn't need to be told twice. With a happy bark, she ran into the freedom of the open apartment.

From the kitchen, Steve heard Bucky's shell-shocked, "Uncle?!" They had better hurry up in there before Bucky got ideas about an actual child running around the apartment.

Steve turned off the hairdryer and scooped Becca up. "Can't have you dripping on the floor." She huffed indignantly, but didn't offer the usual protest, choosing instead to wrap her arms around his neck.

They might not be the perfect magazine-worthy couple with the white-picket fence and the gaggle of well-behaved kids, but Steve couldn't imagine living that life anymore. What he had now was enough, more than enough. He kissed Becca on the bridge of her nose, and she smiled. What he had now was perfect.


	6. Blessed

A year ago Steve wouldn't have found a dinner with Becca's parents uncomfortable. Once they figured out he wasn't too talkative, they made an effort to include him in conversation, but didn't go overboard. They liked him fine, and he liked them.

Then, they'd found out about Bucky. Steve didn't know how they heard that he and Becca were in a polyamorous relationship with Bucky, not that it'd been a big secret. He hadn't considered how her parents would react. In all likelihood, if he hadn't been home the day she had a fight over the phone with them, he would have assumed they'd accepted it. But he was home.

Bucky had yanked him out of the shower and dragged him into the bedroom where Becca was sobbing. She wouldn't tell either of them what had happened for quite a while, but eventually they got the story. Her parents didn't approve of the relationship, not at all. They hadn't disowned her or anything, but they made their opinion clear. Without even needing to talk about it, Steve and Bucky had immediately offered to end the relationship as it was, but Becca had told them no. This was her choice. She wouldn't let anyone, even her parents, shame her into changing her mind, and "you two had better not go have a self-sacrificing conversation behind my back or I will end the both of you." So their relationship had continued on without her parents' approval.

Tonight, however, Steve hoped to get their approval on a different matter. He hadn't been sure they would talk to him, but he had to try. He had called; Molly had answered. After explaining that he had something very important to discuss with them about Becca and he just wanted a chance, there had been a long pause.

"We have dinner at six on Sundays," Molly had eventually said, her voice clipped.

"I'll be there," Steve had said. "Thanks."

Molly had hung up the phone with a sharp click.

Dinner was mostly silent, which was unnerving as Ben usually talked everyone's ear off. Steve made an effort to start conversation, but Molly was quiet even under the best of circumstances, and Ben's answers to these attempts were short and tended to trail off. And the way they looked at him, Steve felt like he was a once favored pet that had chewed up their couch. They wanted to send him off to the pound, but he was their daughter's favorite, so they were stuck with him. One wrong word, and Steve thought he'd get a verbal rap on the nose before he was shown the door.

Yet, Molly had invited him here. Steve wasn't sure why, but he figured – he hoped – that it was because they wanted to make things right with Becca.

Molly put down her fork beside her mostly untouched dinner. "You had something important to say about Becca?"

Steve was surprised it had taken her this long to bring up his reason for coming. He swallowed a gulp of wine. He would get right to the point.

"I'd like your blessing to ask her to marry me."

Ben's mouth gaped comically. Molly showed less of a reaction, her eyes merely widening for moment as she was caught off guard.

She asked, "What about that man?"

When they'd last visited, Molly and Ben had met Bucky. Steve knew that Molly remembered his name and purposely chose not to use it, which irked him. He barely managed to refrain from saying that whether or not Bucky would be a part of the marriage was irrelevant.

" _Bucky_ won't be in the relationship anymore," Steve told her.

"He won't be around at all?"

"He will. He's been my friend since we were kids." Steve did know better than to say he still loved Bucky. Not only would the declaration make this already delicate situation worse, but it was really not her business to know. "But I think of marriage as a commitment between two people. He understands."

Molly looked skeptical. "Does he?"

"Yes, he does. Bucky cares about me and Becca. I've already got his blessing."

As a matter of fact, Bucky's exact words had been, "It's about damn time."

But Molly wasn't satisfied. "So you don't think having him around might test that commitment?"

"No. Look, if I thought having Bucky around made Becca unhappy, I'd do something about it. But she'd never ask me to walk away from him." That was one of the many reasons Steve loved her so much. She understood how much Bucky meant to him. If he announced plans to live the rest of his life with the both of them, he didn't doubt he would have her support.

"Maybe she should," Molly snapped.

Steve swallowed, his teeth gritting together in frustration. "Ma'am, if you invited me here to try and convince me to tell Bucky to hit the road, that's not –"

"I invited you because I was hoping to hear that you had apologized to Becca for this – this indiscretion and were going to try to make amends."

So far, Steve had taken care to keep his tone civil and not say anything he thought would cause further argument, but Molly had gone too far. Calling his relationship with Bucky an "indiscretion" was not something that he could let stand and neither would he be scolded for it.

"If anyone needs to apologize to Becca it's the two of you," Steve stated, barely containing the anger that threatened to force him to his feet. "Do you have any idea how much you upset her?"

Molly looked to Ben for support, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. He played with his fork, shifting it back and forth, and said nothing. His silence was expected. Steve had taken him as the kind of person to actively avoid confrontations whenever possible. Molly had likely shoved the phone into his hand when they'd called Becca and glared at him until he'd talked, only to snatch the phone away when he began to change the subject.

Fed up with waiting, Molly asserted, "We were doing what's best for her."

"By telling her I'm cheating on her? By saying that she's 'confused?'" Steve threw the word back at Molly like a punch, recalling how Becca's voice had broke, how the tears had streamed down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. "I really don't see how that's doing what's best for Becca. That seems to me like doing what's best for you."

Molly's nostrils flared, her face flushing with indignation. " _You_ are the one doing what's best for yourself. Becca wasn't enough, so you thought you could have someone else on the side. And Becca's so blindly in love that she came up with a wild scheme to keep you. She deserves better."

"You're right. She does deserve better. But she loves me, and you can be damn sure I know how lucky I am that she does. That's why I'm asking her to marry me. So that everyone else will know that _I_ know how special she is."

Steve should have asked Becca sooner. He did accept a small portion of the blame for this entire situation. The thing was, he'd never thought about asking Becca to marry him until recently because it felt sort of like they were already married. They'd been living together, sharing an apartment, a bed, a life, for years. Back in his day, by all accounts, they would be married in all but name.

Then, one night, Becca had been recounting her trip with fellow bridesmaids to get their dresses fitted for a friend's wedding, and Steve had looked down at her hand in his and realized how much he'd like to see a ring on her finger. He kept thinking about it until Bucky took him aside and told him she was going to notice if he continued staring at her hand all the time.

Despite Bucky's encouragements, Steve had taken several days to think. As much as being in a relationship with Becca was similar to being married, he truly felt that marriage was going before God in a church and promising to be faithful to one other person. If other people thought different, that was fine, but that's what marriage vows meant to him. Once he'd come to a decision, the next step was asking her parents, not only because that's how he'd be raised, but because he knew it would mean a lot to Becca if they supported the marriage.

"I don't expect you to understand what's between me, Bucky, and Becca," Steve told them. "But if you want to do what's best for your daughter, you'd accept her choice and be happy that she's happy."

Timidly, Ben ventured, "Molls, if Becca really is happy…"

Molly glared him into silence, her face white with fury. Finally, she snapped her head back towards Steve, and hissed, "You wanted my blessing, but until that man is gone, my answer is no." She stood abruptly and stalked out of the dining room.

Steve sighed. He had prepared for the worst, and at least he had given this his best shot. He would ask Becca to marry him regardless of how her parents felt because he thought she'd want him to. He was mostly sure.

After fidgeting some more with his fork, Ben apologized, "I'm sorry about this. You have to understand, the way we were raised, three people together wasn't acceptable."

Steve reminded him, "I was raised Catholic in the 20s and 30s." If Ma had been alive to see him living unmarried with a man and women under the same roof, he figured her reaction wouldn't have been much more positive than Molly's. She'd have probably given him a good clap on the head, too. "I'm not saying your beliefs are wrong. Not saying they're right either. What I'm saying is that just because you've got good reasons, doesn't excuse how you treated Becca. As long as she's not hurting, I think the right thing to do is agree to disagree and tell her you respect her decision and love her no matter what."

"Of course, we love her," Ben replied, his voice at last gaining some surety. "It's just, she's our only daughter and, well, no offense, but she's been through a lot of hell on your account. All we wanted was for her find someone who loved her more than anything in this world, and when we heard about, well, you know, it made us nervous."

"I know." Steve couldn't blame them for being protective. It was how they went about being protective that he took issue with. "I do love her, Ben. I swear I do. If I could, I'd give her the moon, but since it's kinda important to keep that rock up in the sky, I'll have to give her another rock and spend the rest of our time making up the difference. And as long as we're married, it's me and her and no one else. I can promise you that much."

Ben took a moment to think. "Okay. Then, for what it's worth –" he took an unsteady breath "– I give you my permission to marry Becca." He blinked, and Steve thought his eyes appeared a little watery. "You make sure you treat her right."

"I will," Steve promised.

"And take her someplace nice when you ask her."

"I plan to."

"And I'll talk to Molly, see if I can't get her to come around. I don't know if she will, but she wouldn't miss the wedding. I think it's a safe bet there'll be one."

"I'm hoping."

Ben shook his head. "I can't believe my baby girl's gonna be Mrs. Captain America."

"Well, that won't be what it says on the marriage certificate, but…" Steve got a sudden vision of a wedding planned around such a theme. "Actually, if you could not mention that to Becca. She might get an idea that it'd be funny to have bald eagles flying around or have the Star-Spangled Banner playing when we're walking back up the aisle. And I know a few people that would be only too happy to help."

"Right. I'll keep quiet." Ben mimed zipping his lips shut.

"Thanks."

Steve stood up. He should help clean up and then get going. He had to drive all the way back to the city tonight. Not trusting himself to lie, he had Bucky covering for him.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about the dishes," Ben assured him, getting up as well. "I think it might be best if you go, and I'll talk to Molly."

Steve agreed. The longer Molly stewed, the angrier she was like to get, and Ben was probably already in trouble for not agreeing with her. "All right. And, uh, maybe you could give Becca a call. I think she'd like to hear from you."

"I'll do that." Ben walked around the table, and Steve tolerated a hug. He almost enjoyed it. The hug felt like he was being welcomed back into the family. "Good luck."

"Same to you."

Steve left the house, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders and zipping up. He got on his bike and backed it slowly out of the driveway. He hoped that if he returned, it would be under more pleasant circumstances, but for now, he was heading home, back to where Becca was waiting for him.

* * *

Her eyes itched. Probably because she'd barely slept in three days and had been staring at a computer screen for most of that time. Becca rubbed one eye before realizing that would smear her eyeliner. She looked at the black smudge on her hand. Whatever. She had bigger fish to fry.

Getting promoted to lead copywriter was great in that she was making more money, but came with the double edged sword of being in charge of advertisement projects. On the plus side, she met more people and she liked getting to work with them. On the negative side, she had to make sure all the people she managed got their part of projects finished on time and all their work meshed effectively into the larger advertisement campaign, which could be difficult, especially when some members of her team were procrastinators. Her current team – who Becca had asked to send their work by tonight so she'd have at least 48 hours to review, give feedback, and have the final ads ready for the deadline – had yet to send four of the fifteen advertisements for music themed t-shirts.

On top of that, Becca had agreed to create something for a billboard Narcotics Anonymous had rented. She had submitted several designs over the course of the past two weeks, but upper management was still hemming and hawing. Well, they couldn't hem and haw for that much longer or they'd be paying for an empty billboard, which would be an unnecessary waste of a lot of donated funds.

So, to sum it all up, the pressure was on.

"You should go to bed," said Bucky, who was sitting on the couch with Sandy watching _Muppet Treasure Island_. Becca had put it on in the vain hope that the background noise of one of her favorite childhood movies would make her less stressed.

Another tactic that didn't seem to be working was lying on the hard floor in an effort to keep herself awake. Becca lied, "I'm not that tired."

"Your nose is almost touching the screen."

Becca drew back from her laptop and propped her head on an arm, sending a shooting pain through her elbow. When she did have to get up, her body was definitely going to be lodging a lot of protests from resting on hardwood for so long.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Becks." Oh boy. Bucky was using his "you're-being-a-stubborn-idiot-and-should-listen-to-me" nickname for her, which meant he was really serious. "Steve said he still heard you typing at three in the morning on Friday, and I know he carried you to bed last night around two because you fell asleep on the couch."

Becca refreshed her e-mail. Still nothing. "I've got a lot on my plate right now. How about I'll go to sleep at midnight or when Steve comes home, whichever comes first."

"How about you go now?"

"It's not even –" Becca checked the clock. God, she'd thought it was later. "– It's only nine-thirty."

"Steve told me to make sure you were in bed by ten at the latest. If you put up a fight, I'm supposed to drag you in there and barricade the door."

Becca rolled her eyes. "He did not say that."

"All right, he didn't say the part about dragging and barricading," Bucky admitted. "But he did ask me to make sure you got to bed at a decent time."

"Midnight's decent."

Bucky stared at her and sighed. "Okay. Remember, you had your chance to go of your own free will."

Her prediction about getting up turned out to be right. Becca tried to scramble to her feet, but one of her legs was asleep, and everywhere else just plain hurt. Bucky grabbed her as she stood, dragging her easily along, socks sliding on the floor.

"Bucky! Let go!" Becca protested, smacking him hard on the back. Sandy trotted along behind them, wagging her tail and leaping at Becca as if this was a game she wanted to be a part of. "I've got work to do!"

Bucky maneuvered her toward the bedroom, ignoring her squirming. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

"I've got a deadline."

"No, you don't. You said your deadline's Tuesday at midnight."

Damn. "But the Narcotic's –"

"That doesn't really have a deadline, and anything you put out tonight wouldn't get voted on until tomorrow anyway."

Damn, damn, damn. Why did she have to go and complain to Bucky earlier? Becca growled in frustration. "But… but…"

Bucky dropped her arm, and before Becca could come up with another excuse or even think of trying to slip past him, he closed the bedroom door in her face. She grabbed the doorknob, but he was holding it shut. Fuck it. Fuck it! She was too tired to deal with any more shit today.

"I can't go to sleep without brushing my teeth!"

A pause, and then slowly Bucky opened the door. He supervised the rest of her routine, much to Becca's annoyance, and insisted on keeping her laptop. When she was finally under the covers, she stewed for a while. Bucky hadn't thought to confiscate her cell phone, so she checked it once or twice.

And when the phone rang, Becca picked it up off the bedside table. The call was coming from her parents' house. She hesitated, not sure if she was in the mood to be further shamed. However, she missed talking to her parents more, so she answered.

"Hello?"

" _Hi, Becca,"_ greeted her dad.

"Hey, what's going on?" Becca almost wished her mom had called instead. Her mom was the always the judgmental one. When her dad told her that he didn't like her being in a poly relationship, it had stung a lot worse.

" _Just wanted to call to check in on you. Are you okay? You sound sick."_

"I'm fine. A little tired, that's all. Work's been crazy."

" _I won't keep you long then. But I had to tell you that I'm sorry."_

Becca was taken aback. She couldn't remember ever getting an apology from either of her parents. "You… are?"

" _Yeah."_ Her dad did sound apologetic. Becca could hear the guilt in his voice, softening his words. _"I said some things and your mom said some things that I know hurt you. We never wanted that. We were trying to look out for you, but I realize now that you're not my baby girl anymore and I have to let you decide what's best for you. So if that means living with Steve and… gosh darn it, what's that man's name? You know how I am with names. It's there and then it's –"_

"Bucky."

Her dad made a noise, the kind when he was annoyed with himself for being forgetful. _"That's right. If living with Steve and Bucky makes you happy, then I'm happy."_

"Thanks, Dad. That means a lot." Becca swallowed as her throat closed up. She needed to hear this right now. "Is Mom…?"

With a sigh, her dad said _, "I'm working on her, sweetheart. You know how she is. That's where you get your stubborn streak from."_

"Yeah." Becca was disappointed that her mom hadn't gotten on board, too, but knowing that at least her dad supported her was something.

" _You get some sleep, okay? You've got a big day coming up soon."_

"I do?"

" _Well, uh, you said work's been crazy, right? I assume that means something big's coming."_

"Oh. Yeah." Duh. She was way overtired.

" _Goodnight, sweetheart."_

"Goodnight, Dad. I love you."

" _I love you, too_."

Becca set her phone back on the nightstand and snuggled deeper into the blankets. She would call him back tomorrow to talk. They had so much to catch up on, especially since her dad was a talker and would have stories about absolutely everything going on in her old neighborhood. She felt a lot better and ready to totally pass out and maybe even sleep in. Except she did feel kind of bad about hitting Bucky and giving him the stink-eye when he'd only been trying to look out for her. If her dad could apologize for being wrong, so could she.

Becca got out of bed and returned to the living room where Bucky had turned off _Muppet Treasure Island_ – the heathen – and was flipping through channels.

"I'm going to back to bed," Becca promised immediately, holding up her hands when Bucky looked like he was about to jump of the couch and drag her back to bed. "I just had to say I'm sorry for hitting you. I wasn't in a good mood."

"It's all right," Bucky assured her. "Who were you talking to?"

"My dad." Becca smiled. "He said he's sorry for what he said about us, and he's happy for me."

Bucky smiled back. "Hey, that's great. Now go on back to bed."

"Jeez, am I still talking to my dad?" Becca teased, but she gave Bucky a kiss and went.

It didn't take long for Becca to fall asleep. Once she turned off all the lights and hit the pillow, it was pretty much instantaneous. But she woke up again to low voices out in the hall. Steve and Bucky. Steve was home. She vaguely remembered Bucky telling her he had to meet with some important people, government stuff. She had learned not to ask too much in the way of details. She should go out and make sure the meeting went okay and say goodnight.

Becca stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from the corners of her eyes. When she opened the door, Steve gave her a guilty look.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," he apologized.

"It's fine. I'm not used to going to bed this early, so I'm…" Becca lost her train of thought. "Anyway, how'd the meeting go?" She hugged him. Mmmm, Steve was warm. And comfy. She was going to keep her head resting against him and just not let go.

"Good. Not perfect, but good." Steve kissed the top of her head. "Come on. Let's get you back into bed."

"M'kay." Pointing at Bucky, Becca promised, "I'm really going for good this time."

Bucky chuckled. "If you say so."

Becca allowed herself to be shepherded into the bedroom, where Steve tucked her under the covers. He sat beside her on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers gently through her hair. "I heard your father called."

"He did." Becca had almost forgotten. She was so glad he'd called that she couldn't help smiling. She poked her hand out of the covers so she could hold his hand while sharing the exciting news. "Everything's all right with him now. He loves me again."

"I'm glad." Steve brushed his thumb back and forth across her knuckles, his gaze following the sweeping movement. The motion was soothing, and Becca closed her eyes. She could easily fall asleep right now. "I wish I could give you the moon."

What? Why was he talking about giving her the moon? Becca was too sleepy to figure it out. She didn't even know what she'd do with the moon. It was a big, dusty rock. Who needed that?

"I don't need the moon," she mumbled. "I have you."

Steve's fingers stopped their sweeping motion and curled around her hand instead. His lips pressed against her temple and lingered there, his breath warm against her hairline. Comfortable and perfectly content with him beside her, Becca fell asleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and Happy Holidays to the rest. Okay everyone, that's it for this collection. Hope you enjoyed the fluff. I will start posting To Stand Unshielded in a week or two, so I'll see you then!**


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